


Alkohol führt zu Verwirrung

by Cherrytreegirl



Series: Es gibt viele Faktoren die das Leben beeinflussen können [2]
Category: Das Boot (TV 2018)
Genre: Alcohol Induced Amnesia, Enemies, Enemies staying Enemies, Hoffmann doesn't realize tho, Hoffmann is really dense, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Still bad at tagging, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Sexual Tension, WWII, no beta we die like Sam Greenwood, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherrytreegirl/pseuds/Cherrytreegirl
Summary: Sometimes a simple late-night drink can turn into something else. That thing being a headache and no memories of what else happened. All of those things can turn into grand confusion about other people.(This is a continuation of Sauerstoffmangel macht flau, but it can be read separately)
Relationships: Klaus Hoffmann/Karl Tennstedt
Series: Es gibt viele Faktoren die das Leben beeinflussen können [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118996
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Alkohol führt zu Verwirrung

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! The sequel to Sauerstoffmangel macht flau, this time in English. I promised that there would be more Klaus/Cassandra, and there will be, but I am a slut for Hoffy/Tenny too, so here is my shameless indulgence in that ship.  
> Ganymed, I hope this satisfies you. And, of course, there probably will be even more coming in this storyline simply because I love writing it.  
> Now, nuff said. Enjoy!

The first thing that came to Klaus Hoffmann, when he woke up that morning, was punishment for his lèger idea of war preparation the night before, and it came to him in the form of a throbbing headache. It wasn’t particularly intense, but it was just strong enough to be quite bothersome.

The second thought which crossed his mind was the realization that Karl Tennstedt had lied to him. Hoffmann didn’t remember everything from their conversation, the cognac had been quite strong judging by his headache and missing memories, but he did remember that with no word Tennstedt had informed him about the literal fire that had started on his *brand new* boat. Hoffmann probably would have never known, and it was pure luck that he still remembered that from last night, if he hadn’t checked the boat himself and met the new radio operator who had been repairing the equipment. Perhaps the 1WO had simply forgotten? No, if the fire had been severe enough so the radio operator had to be replaced, then a man like Tennstedt could not have forgotten about it and therefore failed to inform his commander. Hoffmann would have to clarify that this kind of misbehavior was not acceptable under his command, at least that he shared with his father.

Only in his third thought did he realize that, not only would he leave La Rochelle today and spend quite some time at sea, his last event ashore for a while would be the execution of a former crewmate. The idea of attending still made his stomach churn but he wasn’t about to break the promise ha gave a dying man, it wouldn’t be honorable, and it would certainly only make his feeling of guilt worse. So, he donned his clothes and stepped out into the early morning light.

The minute his ears stopped ringing, Hoffmann realized that there would be talk about him shooting a man in the head point-blank, and it wouldn’t be a heroic tale. But he knew he couldn’t have watched this young soldier perish like a dog, in the dirt, choking on his own blood. It had been merciful to release him from his suffering, it had been euthanasia. Their superiors probably wouldn’t have agreed as this had been a punishment for cowardice, but it wasn’t like Klaus had asked them. Sometimes he thought that all of the Nazis must be sadists, another reason perhaps, why he didn’t necessarily agree with their ideas because he was very much not sadistic, quite the opposite really. He had never been able to watch a creature suffering, struggling to survive. 

As a child, maybe 5 years old, he’d slipped the tight supervision of his nanny (she had fallen asleep watching him play with his little airplanes and tin soldiers) and wandered down to the kitchen out of pure curiosity. There he’d come in touch with death for the first time in his life as he watched the kitchen maid grab a living goose by the neck, the bird kicking and smacking with its wings, screeching in a terrible choked manner before the maid turned its head in a swift move of hands, the white-feathered body becoming limp and motionless. Little Klaus had run back up the stairs, absolutely terrified, past his waking nanny and hidden under his covers for the next hour or so. That evening, at dinner he announced to his, very amused by their son’s decision, parents that he was a vegetarian now and would not be eating be any more birds, thank you very much.

His protest had only lasted about a week though, Ms. Schneider’s duck tasted far too good to be refused. The horror with the goose was as good as forgotten, but he never did go down to the kitchens again when she was cooking poultry.

Hoffmann spent a good fifteen minutes in the restroom, bent over a sink, and furiously scrubbing his hands to remove the blood from his hands. From the aggression and intensity with which he went about this task, one might have thought he was trying to clean tar of off his skin, but there was no tar, there wasn’t even blood, not a singular crimson droplet on his pale fingers, yet he couldn’t get the stickiness to go away, no matter how hard he rubbed, his hands felt tarnished by his foolish and impulsive reaction. He had shot at people before, there was a war going on after all, but this felt so different, he had shot a German soldier, a man he knew.

When Klaus realized that there was nothing left to scrub off his hands but his skin, he finally put down the bar of soap and stared at the redness of his usually pale fingers. After he had dried them off, the irritation only looked worse, he was hardly able to make a fist, the skin over his knuckles felt tight, like leather gloves that are just slightly too small. Hoffmann saw the oh so thin tears opening and felt the stinging sensation be replaced by a painful itchiness.

His eyes wandered from his abused hands upwards to the watch on his wrist, it had been a present from his parents when he’d joined the marine, and realized he’d completely forgotten about time in his manic attempt at cleansing. He slipped on his gloves, was it to protect his hands from the biting salty air or from unappreciated staring? Hoffmann wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter, did it now. With one last glance at his reflection in the mirror, he started his way to the docks.  
“Ready for departure, sir.” 

The 1WO looked perfectly professional, not a strand of hair out of place, Hoffmann had half hoped Tennstedt would show even the slightest bit of tiredness, perhaps to reassure himself in the idea that he wasn’t just bad at handling a few drinks and a few hours less sleep, but he was disappointed to find not even the tiniest thing of softness in the 1WO’s stance. Although, if you looked very closely, which Hoffmann did, it seemed as if there was just a hint of uncertainty in Tennstedt’s eyes, and that terrified the young commander because it seemed so unlike him.

Well, he hardly knew the man, but from what he gathered about him so far it seemed out of character for Tennstedt to be uncertain about anything. He suddenly wondered if anything important had happened last night that he had forgotten about. As much as he searched around in his mind though, he wasn’t able to find anything notable. Hoffmann still only remembered very little, they had talked about his father’s book and the crew, but nothing of real importance. 

So, he pushed the air of uncertainty in the other’s gaze into the fact that Tennstedt probably hadn’t served as 1WO under a captain younger than himself and wasn’t sure how the dynamic of the two of them would be. Hoffmann himself wasn’t sure about that yet either, it certainly would be interesting, to say the least. That was surely the reason for it, what else would it be? They hadn’t declared their undying love for one another only for Hoffmann to forget or something. That would be ridiculous.

“The only way we can survive is together.”  
Hoffmann was aware of their whispering, he knew they didn’t trust him fully, not yet. He knew that some of them had hoped that Tennstedt would be their captain for this journey and that they believed that the only reason he wasn’t, was because Hoffmann was the son of the great and mighty war hero. Perhaps they also believed that it was a reward for snitching, for testifying in the case of his former crewmate being tried for cowardice.

Hoffmann knew he’d have to prove himself worthy, worthy as a commander, worthy as their superior. He knew he had to assert dominance. And what was the best way to assert dominance over a ship overflowing with testosterone? Have them do drills.

Again, and again. 

He was aware that that probably wouldn’t help with their dislike towards him, but it showed them who was in charge. And even if they hated him for it, what were they going to do, put him in a lifeboat and abandon him at sea?

“Prepare to dive.”  
With the other men rattling away beneath them to go underwater, Hoffmann turned towards his 1WO. 

“There was a fire aboard, you failed to inform me.”  
He didn’t know why he had decided to confront Tennstedt in private, he probably should have done it in front of everyone to assure they all understood who was in charge here, he was aware, after all, of the fact that Tennstedt had more experience than him, and that the men knew too. 

“It was under control.”

“Under control? You had to replace the radio operator!” He felt himself getting more agitated by Tennstedt’s nonchalance. The 1WO’s face was cold and calculated. Hoffmann stepped closer, he was a few centimeters shorter but that didn’t make him any less of a threat in that moment, he was ready to push his opposite off into the water, should the need arise. 

He probably would also jump right after and pull him back out, but that was irrelevant.

Hoffmann saw how Tennstedt’s shoulders tensed, the other was obviously aware of the dangerous waters he was entering here. 

“If anything like that happens again, if you go behind my back again, there will be punishment.”

Different emotions flickered through the 1WO’s eyes, from the usual coldness to what could be most accurately described as a mixture of both respect and fear, then to that uncertainty again and lastly turning into something dark, sinister almost, Hoffmann couldn’t quite place it, he was unsure of the feeling it represented. Tennstedt’s breathing was shallower now, slow, almost labored and he stood incredibly still.*  
Hoffmann hoped that his tenseness meant that the man had understood where his place was.

Without another word, he descended into the hull of his U-Boot, the 1WO following soon after.

**Author's Note:**

> *For anyone who didn't catch my drift here, I'm trying to say he's horny, lol. No one has ever looked at me and gotten horny, so pardon me if that sounds unrealistic. Also, no, I probably won't write any explicit smut in this series, because I'm bad at that and also a virgin, it's not like I know anything about sex. XD
> 
> If anyone would like to write some of those scenes from Tenny's perspective, I think that would be really interesting.


End file.
